


Silent Professions

by YesMyQueen



Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: F/F, Muteness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 16:13:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YesMyQueen/pseuds/YesMyQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All I ever wanted was to hear those three words slip from her lips, but now I'd give all my possessions away if she would realize that actions can speak much louder then words. I love her, even if she as she thinks "damaged goods" and that there is more then one way to speak...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

No one becomes depraved all at once.

JUVENAL, Satires

"Shut the hell up!" I screamed angrily, at my once best friend, striding quickly over to where they were standing, just a few feet from me.

I never thought that I would be able get that angry, so angry that I was no longer in control of myself, my body was on autopilot as I strode over to them, raised my arm back in preparation to strike the one person that I thought that I never ever be able to hurt.

The open palm of my right hand hit them with a loud smack followed by a groan of pain as they sunk to the ground with an audible thud.

As they sat there, looking up at me from their position on the floor, a line from the popular song by Eminem and Rihanna "Love the Way You Lie" came to mind:

You swore you'd never hit 'em; never do nothing to hurt 'em

Now you're in each other's face spewing venom in your words when you spit them

You push, pull each other's hair, scratch, claw, hit 'em

Throw 'em down, pin 'em

So lost in the moments when you're in them

It's the rage that took over it controls you both

From the first time we met, I knew that we had stumbled upon something special, something that only comes around once in a lifetime, but now it seems that we've ruined it… ruined our chance at perfection.

They looked at me, with tears in their eyes, as they struggled to get back on their feet. I just stood there as they attempted to stand up. They gave up after their fourth attempt at standing, their eyes never leaving mine.

Maintaining eye contact, I backed up so that there were about three feet between the two of us before sliding to a sitting position on the cold tile floor.

We maintained this eye contact for what seemed to be hours, but in reality it only lasted around five minutes, before I broke our mutual gaze. I turned my eyes to the flooring in front of me, counting scratches etched into the floor from years of use, no longer able to look into the eyes of my true love, that I never let know of my love and so remained just my best friend.

The silence though remained until it was broken by the opening of a door. Turning my head to look for source of the sound, I saw that the source was one of my employees that had come in with a folder presumably containing the files that I've been asking for. They didn't stay long, for with on glance at the situation taking place between me and my once upon a time best friend and left as quickly as they had come. The pause then returned.

It was another five minutes before the silence was once again broken, this time for good, by the sound of person, sitting in front of me, speaking quietly in their usual raspy voice, "Hi…"

I looked at them and then in the same soft tone as they had just used said, "Hello."

There was a pregnant pause before the room was filled with the sound of their boisterous laughter accompanying my soft giggles.

"I'm sorry." I told my truest friend, as my giggles faded. I hoped that my eyes, things that they once described as clear windows into my soul that with one glance could convey my feelings, were doing just that by showing the genuine remorse that I was feeling.

"So am I" was their response, as they rose to their feet and slowly strode towards me. Taking the hand that they offered me and allowed myself to be pulled to my feet, before ensnaring their tall muscular frame in the tightest hug that I could muster.

They let out a chuckle before lifting me into the air and swinging me in a full circle. I then was gently placed back onto the ground, the embrace still intact. Standing upon my tiptoes I was barely able to rest my head upon their black jacket covered shoulder. A comfortable silence enveloped the room as forgiveness was exchanged between the two of us.

The silence was once again interrupted by the sound of the door opening, but instead of it being a scared lab technician, it was the one man neither of us ever thought we would see again… Charles Hoyt.

I let out a shrill shriek as I was gently pushed backwards by Jane as she took a defensive position in front of me, blocking her worst nightmare, from my view.

All thoughts of the fight that we just resolved, a fight that began when I discovered that the Italian detective had investigated my on again off again love interest Ian and my involvement with him, flew out the window as I was consumed by fear, fear that she would be taken away from me by this… monster, after we had just fixed our friendship.

Hoyt watched with interest as Jane reacted to his presence, waiting until she was done pushing me behind her protectively, before opening his mouth and speaking in his calm lightly accented voice, "Hello love." He said to Jane before turning to me and saying "Hello to you Dr. Isles, looking as lovely as ever."

"What the fuck do you want?" asked my detective as she tightened her grip on my arm.

Hoyt to a step forward before answering Jane's question "Well that's an interesting question Janie, because even I'm not really sure, but I think I have an idea of it." He spoke in an even honest voice that contained only a hint of malice.

Jane in response to Hoyts step forward took a long step backward that was slightly crooked and that brought us slightly closer to the door, this pattern of Hoyt closing in on us and Jane moving away, continued until my back directly facing the exiting door.

Hoyt took notice of this as Jane slowly began to back us up and with a shake of his head spoke in a disappointed voice "Detective thinking about leaving so soon?"

"No, not at all." Jane replied her voice thick with sarcasm and fear.

"I don't appreciate you use of sarcasm Jane." Hoyt said in a voice one would use to discipline a naughty child, "anyway you wouldn't get far, because my "friend" is waiting just out the door, besides don't you want to play with me, I bet Doc does."

He then reached into his shirts lapel's pocket and pulled out a scalpel, the sight of which caused Jane to shake and absently rub her hands, like I have seen her do many times during stressful situations.

It was then that I found my voice, "Fuck off." I said in a loud clear voice before moving to stand side by side with Jane.


	2. Chapter 2

We must build dikes of courage to hold back the flood of fear.  
Martin Luther King, Jr.

Let's recap the last chapter: Jane and Maura were fighting about the fact that Jane investigated Ian and subsequently Maura, but the two made up just in time for the wonderful Charles Hoyt to burst in the room. Also Maura finally found her voice.

Hoyt laughed at my outburst before taking four steps in our direction, while threateningly brandishing his sharp scalpel. Jane tensed even more than before; her body was on high alert, her eyes darting back and forth, trying to find an escape route.

"Language Dr. Isles." Hoyt chided, before emitting a hoarse cough that caused him to bend over in pain. Jane took Hoyt's momentarily lapse in control as an opportunity, to turn the tables on Hoyt. She rushed him like a lion rushes their prey, and roughly tackled him to the floor his scalpel sliding across the room.

The two began then to wrestle, both struggling to be on top. Hoyt grabbed Jane by the collar and flipped her over his head, using his knees to propel her threw the air. She landed on her stomach with an oomph as her head slammed against the morgues tile. Hoyt then crawled towards the scalpel. I waited for Jane to get up, to fight, but she remained motionless.

Once he picked up the discarded scalpel, Hoyt turned to me and began to stalk towards me scalpel glinting in the harsh fluorescent lights. When he reached me he grabbed roughly by the arm and dragged me to Jane's unresponsive body before commanding me in a harsh voice to pick up Jane's hand cuffs and to handcuff her to the exposed pipe that ran along the wall. As I followed out his instructions I quietly begged my hot blooded Italian detective to get up and to save me.

After I finished completing my assigned task Hoyt grabbed me again, this time seizing my hair, and dragged me over to body locker and tied my hands together after forcing me to sit. He patted my head as one would do to an obedient dog, before telling me "Good girl." And then walking over to Jane and kicked her awake.

~~~Jane's POV~~~

My unconscious state was ended by a swift kick in my side. My vision was fuzzy for a second but quickly cleared up and with the uninhibited vision I was greeted by the site of my secret love, tied up with tears in her eyes.

I tried to get up but was yanked back by some sort of restraint which I realized were my handcuffs. I tried several times before giving up and sitting still as I tried to figure out what happened. "Ugh!" I cried out in frustration realizing both that my efforts were futile and that my gun was nowhere to be seen.

"Detective welcome back, I see that you've noticed the restraints that I had your little friend put on you. Did she put them on snug?" he asked teasingly.

"Fuck you, you fucking piece of shit!" I screamed my gravelly voice broke half way through my sentence.

"Detective, such harsh language didn't your ma teach you any manners maybe you could take a page or two out of docs book." He chided as he tenderly ran the scalpel across my cheek, using it as a pointer when he spoke about Maura. He traced the blade across my left check, brought it to the corner of my mouth and then dug the sharp edge into my flesh and sliced my face from the corner of my lip to the bottom of my ear. It took a second for the pain to set off the right receptors in my brain, but when it hit me I let out a ferocious scream.

I took a quick glance over at Maur and the sight I was greeted with broke my heart, the tears that earlier were contained now ran freely down her beautiful face. Feeling the need to comfort her I mouthed my usual term of endearment, along with a reassuring phrase, to her "Passerotta, it will be alright I promise."

"What did you say to her!" Hoyt demanded me to tell him as he roughly grabbed my bloody chin and made me face him "Answer me!" he yelled when I remained silent.

Fearing what he would do, I quickly said "Nothing I just told her that it's going to be okay."

"Sorry then Doc, because it seems that Detective Rizzoli lied to you because I assure you that it will not be okay." He finished his sentence in a horrifying voice, before driving the scalpel into my shoulder and twisting the blade, eliciting another ear splitting shriek.

"Stop!" screamed Maura, effectively distracting Hoyt from his torture of my body. Unfortunately caused him to stand up from his crouched position over me and stalk towards her, the blade held out in front of him, dripping red rubies as he walked.

"Fine doc, I'll stop… with Jane. But you on the other hand look tantalizingly untouched." He said this to her as her traced her jugular lightly with the blood covered scalpel. The site of the one person that I want to spend the rest of my life with being threatened by the star of my nightmares caused something to break deep within me, sparking my fighting instinct to go into over drive. In an act of desperation I yanked, with strength that I didn't know that I possessed and pulled my hands out of the snug fitting handcuffs, ripping a good chunk of flesh of off my hands probably breaking them, and rushed over to Maura. When I reached her I grabbed Hoyt, paying no attention to the pain radiating from both my shoulder and my hands, and threw him several feet before wrapping Maura in a tight hug.

I stayed the embracing Maura in my arms until I was dragged away by Hoyt, who had managed to hold on to the scalpel when he was thrown. He wrapped his gangly arms tightly around my neck, cutting off my air supply. As I was gasping for air, I managed to choke out "Maur find my gun, I'll hold keep him here. Find my gun and go out the backdoor and find help."

Maura just looked at me with wide eyes, until what I said finally sunk into her brilliant mind. She then quickly rose to her feet her eyes never leaving me as she made her way to her desk and opened the first draw, pulled out my gun and quickly walked to the door, again her eyes never leaving mine until the door shut behind her, leaving me there, struggling to free myself from Hoyts grasp.


	3. Chapter 3

To catch you up: I stayed the embracing Maura in my arms until I was dragged away by Hoyt, who had managed to hold on to the scalpel when he was thrown. He wrapped his gangly arms tightly around my neck, cutting off my air supply. As I was gasping for air, I managed to choke out "Maur find my gun, I'll hold keep him here. Find my gun and go out the backdoor and find help."

Maura just looked at me with wide eyes, until what I said finally sunk into her brilliant mind. She then quickly rose to her feet her eyes never leaving me as she made her way to her desk and opened the first draw, pulled out my gun and quickly walked to the door, again her eyes never leaving mine until the door shut behind her, leaving me there, struggling to free myself from Hoyts grasp

*Maura's POV*

I rushed out the backdoor, my feet carrying me as fast as they possibly could, as I tried to find someone that could help. As I ran I mentally took note that it's time that I got Jane to teach me how to shoot, I mean I should have been able to shoot Hoyt and not have to run away, I mentally berated myself.

It took me a few minutes until I finally came upon a small group of officers, recognizing one of the cops who had his back turned to me I ran up to him and hurriedly began to speak "John there's a situation in the morgue, Hoyts there."

The look he gave me was one of utter disbelief, and I didn't blame him either, "What!"

"Uh… I… you… oh, just come on!" I stuttered out before leading him to the morgue where Jane hopefully was holding out.

I only made it a few feet before I felt a restricting hand tightly grasp my wrist and cause me to stop my motion. I looked back at the hands owner and was met with the sight of none other than Frankie.

"What the hell is going on, Doc?" he asked me as John and the other officers hurried past us.

"Frankie, its Jane, there's a situation in the morgue so if you could release me it would be greatly appreciated."

His hand did not release my arms but instead used his grip to pull me behind him as he rushed off down towards the morgue.

Upon entering the morgue I was met with a nerve-racking sight, Hoyt in the time it took me to go and get help, managed to gain the upper hand over Jane. He now stood with his back to the wall and the beautiful detective I call my best friend was wrapped in his left arm while the other one threateningly held Hoyt's shinning scalpel roughly against her throat. Hoyts face frozen in a wicked smile as he forcibly ran his blade straight across Jane's neck, leaving a trail of crimson liquid that quickly fell hostage to gravity's pull and cascading to the clean tile.


	4. Chapter 4

I held a moment in my hand, brilliant as a star, fragile as a flower, a tiny sliver of one hour. I dripped it carelessly, Ah! I didn't know, I held opportunity. ~Hazel Lee

Time seemed to go by impossibly slow as Jane fell to the hard tile floor. I barely acknowledged the characteristic crack of a gun as it goes off before I rushed over to the fallen Jane. As I fell to my knees beside the raven haired detective, the first thing I noticed was how deep the sharp edge of the scalpel had actually carved into her dark olive toned skin. Without a second thought I let all of my years of medical training take over as I assessed the best possible care plan for Jane and the gaping slash in her throat. It doesn't take me long to realize that if she does not get to a hospital soon, Jane most likely will not survive this encounter. That thought sends waves of fear crashing through my body. My once steady hands shake from the mixture of fear and adrenalin that course through my body.

I yelled at one of the officers who were standing behind me looking absolutely frightened, to go to my office and grab my bag. The only time my eyes left Jane's bleeding body was to glare at the officer when he made no attempt to retrieve my bag.

The rest of the time spent kneeling on the cold morgue floor passed in a haze of numbness as I tried to prevent my best friend's life from slipping away. The whole time my mind was consumed by facts and statistics that made me pray, for the first time since I was a child, to a god that I don't really believe in for the safety of the voice inside my head.

You live longer once you realize that any time spent being unhappy is wasted. ~Ruth E. Renkl

(At the hospital)

I was awoken from my fitful sleep by the sound of approaching footsteps. I quickly opened my eyes and uncurled myself from the chair that I had been occupying since we were told that Jane's surgery would more than likely take several hours. Standing up I was met with a sense of vertigo, but it was only fleeting. I calmly made my way to Angela who had risen to meet the incoming doctor.

His demeanor was calm but serious. I quickly noted his expression and felt a tremendous sense of relief when he allowed his serious expression to lighten a bit and even put on a small smile.

"Mrs. Rizzoli?" he asked his voice smooth and suave. Angela merely nodded, not wanting to interrupt the surgeon as she inched closer to me. "I am Dr. Matthews, the trauma surgeon who performed your daughter's surgery. I just came out here to let you know that everything went fine. We were able to repair some of the damage to her throat, but we won't know how much remains until she wakes up. With that being said Jane will have little to no ability to speak due to the severe damage done to her vocal cords. With a good deal of therapy, Jane may regain some function of speech, but it is very unlikely that she will make a full recovery. Also we noticed that there was some swelling in Jane's brain, but we have installed a shunt and expect no further complications. A nurse will be out soon to take you to her room. She should be awake within the hour." After delivering the life altering news Dr. Matthews simple left not even bothering to ask if there were any questions. Not that I had any, but it was obvious that Angela was as they say blooming?, Full of them.

I turned to the woman I had come to think of as a mother and waited for her to voice her confusion. She lifted her head to look at mine as she hesitantly articulated her question "What exactly does he mean by a shunt?"

I answered without missing a beat, "A shunt is a small tube called a catheter that is inserted into a hole that has been drilled in the skull. Its main purpose is to relieve the pressure on the brain caused by internal bleeding Cerebral shunts are commonly used to treat hydrocephalus (which literally means water or in this case blood in the brain), the swelling of the brain due to excess buildup of cerebrospinal fluid. If left unrestricted, the cerebral spinal fluid can build up leading to an increase in intracranial pressure which can lead to intracranial hematoma, cerebral edema, crushed brain tissue or herniation. The cerebral shunt can be used to lessen or prevent these problems in patients who suffer from hydrocephalus or other related diseases. Shunts can come in a variety of forms, but all of them consist of a pump or drain connected to a long catheter, the end of which is usually positioned in the peritoneal cavity... the shunt was first used back in…" I stopped realizing that all I had done was probably left Angela with more questions than I had answers as I rambled.

She nodded her head, after making sure that I was finished, before moving back to the chair that she previously had occupied and settled down to wait until the nurse came.

(Thirty minutes later)

I paused before entering Jane's room, afraid of what I would find. Only after an internal pep talk did I force myself to cross the threshold. Upon entering the room for the first time my eyes immediately focused on the thick layers on crisp white bandages that covered Jane's throat.

As I took a seat in the grey chair next to the bed the only thought in my mind was on of thankfulness, thankfulness that Jane was alive, hurt but alive.

It was then that I was suddenly hit by all the emotions of the day. I could felt the warm wet caresses of the tears as they fell from my lacrimal ducts. I didn't brush them away as I usually would, but instead for once allowed my physical appearance match my emotional state. Looking down at my lap I watched as they fell one by one on to my new Prada dress.

I was brought out of my pity party by the sounds of Jane squirming around in the hospitals small twin sized bed. I looked up just as her eye lids began to flutter open.


	5. Chapter 5

A voice is a human gift; it should be cherished and used, to utter fully human speech as possible. Powerlessness and silence go together.

Margaret Atwood

As Jane woke up her fluttering eyes were greeted with a blinding light. She rubbed at her eyes until they adjusted to the overly bright light above her. The next thing she noticed was the tired but still beautiful face of Maura Isle's, leaning over her with a concerned yet excited expression. Jane looked up at her, confusion and pain evident on her face. Jane opened her mouth as if to speak but when she tried to vocalize her words all she was able to do was release a soundless sigh. She instead attempted to convey her message through a pointed look.

Maura unsure what to do gently placed her perfectly manicured hand on Jane's muscular forearm, her pale skin creating a sharp contrast against Jane's tanned hide. Maura's lack of words did not last long because a few seconds later she fell into her old Google speak.

Jane just lay there, as if she could go anywhere, and listened to Maura's ramblings. She only caught enough of the honey-blondes words to get the jist of what the older woman was saying, that when Hoyt had sliced Jane's throat his scalpel had dug deep enough to sever her vocal chords. She also understood how close she had come to leaving this world forever. That was the most terrifying thing to Jane at the moment, even more terrifying then the fact that she may never be able to speak again… never be able to vocalize her love for the rambling doctor that was currently standing over her oblivious to Jane's inattention.

Jane let Maura continue her little rant for a few more minutes before reaching up and pulling down on Maura's shoulder. Maura immediately stopped her rambling as Jane (A/N I almost wrote as Jane said, but then I remembered) gave an amused look, one that clearly said 'Maura you're doing it again.'

"Sorry." Maura told the injured detective as she heard the nurse, who had come in to check on Jane, leave after telling them both that the doctor would be in shortly. Jane just smiled, before grasping Maura's hand and squeezing it tightly. "Would you care to watch some television while we wait for the doctor?" Maura asked motioning towards the TV while reaching for the remote that sat on a table on the other side of the room. Jane nodded her approval at the doctor's suggestion, but frowned when Maura made her way to the obviously uncomfortable chair next to Jane's bed. Jane shook her head before patting the covers of her hospital bed. Maura looked apprehensive and hesitated not wanting to injure Jane in anyway, but finally gave in knowing that the detective would not cease her action of patting the sheets beside her and would silently stare at her if she declined.

Maura, with a sigh of defeat, crawled into the bed and lay down beside her friend and began flipping through the hospitals limited channels, finally stopping on a nature show about turtles. Maura turned her head to look at Jane, silently asking the wounded woman if would like to watch the show. Jane instead of nodding or shaking her head, merely pulled Maura closer to her side and rested her head on her shoulder. This made Maura smile as she turned up the volume of the narrator's monotone voice. She was thankful that Jane was alive but found herself wondering when the two would discuss what had been said in the moments before Hoyt burst into the morgue. She gave that thought no more contemplation, knowing that she wasn't ready to and Jane for sure wasn't. So instead her thoughts shifted to what Jane could learn and what would best suit her, so that the detective could be able to communicate with the world around her in a nonverbal manner. She came up with several options but decided that it would be better if she presented the options to Jane in the morning. Hopefully that will have given her a little time to mentally deal with the news she had received earlier, the news that despite giving no real reaction to had devastated the detective. Maura for once grew tired of thinking and decided to as Jane would say 'veg out and watch TV' and so Maura spared one last look at Jane before returning her full attention of the intriguing documentary.

Sometime during the documentary the two fell asleep, both dreaming about the other.

Jane was roused from her peaceful sleep by the feeling of a hand on her throat, lifting the bandages to check the wound underneath. She jumped when the hand first made contact but quickly remembered the honey-blonde fast asleep curled in to her side. She watched the woman, making sure that she was still in a state of well-deserved slumber, before looking up to find out to whom the hand accosting her belonged. The owner of the rubber glove clad hand turned out to be her doctor. He said nothing to the brunette as he finished his exam and left, after making a quick note on her chart. Jane as the man who she would later find out was named Dr. Matthews left without saying anything to her, found herself wondering what had bitten him on the ass.

Jane pushed aside the doctor's rudeness as she suddenly found herself too tired to remain awake and laid her head down on Maura's soft chest. Jane was out like a light in a matter of minutes.

The two would remain asleep, cuddling into one another, sleeping not even waking when a nurse came to check up on Jane, until noon the next day.


	6. Chapter 6

Day 3, 3:34 P.M

Imagine opening your mouth expecting words to come tumbling out, but as you move your mouth using it to form the familiar shapes needed to verbalize your thoughts, you find yourself unable to even softly whisper the softest of phrases. This silence it's… foreign to me.

Day 4, 6:17 A.M

I am thirsty, frustrated, hurting, and regretful.

Day 4, 9:36 P.M

When I wake up and find you asleep in the hospital provided chair beside me, I feel waves of anger course through me. I wish I could tell you. I finally knew what to say or at least I thought I did, but maybe this silence that has been forced on me is the god who I will be " turning my back on" if I enter what the church considers to be an immoral relationship with you, 's way of telling me not to profess.

Day 6, 12:04 P.M

Your voice is both a blessing and a curse; it sounds so sweet as the gentle soprano tone fills my ears and brings the harsh reality crashing through the makeshift shield of eggshells I had created to deal with reality.

Day 6, 2:12 P.M

I have never been one for talking things out, I can never get words I say to match the sentiment in which I meant, but writing… that's even worse. Hell, I would rather discuss my sex life, in explicit detail, with ma then write another fucking word.

Day 7, 1:21 A.M

Sleep eludes me.

Day 7, 3:15 A.M

I feel as though I am losing my mind. I just wish I knew if it was because of the muteness of my lips or if it was caused by the total lack of sleep. I wonder what you are dreaming of as you gently snore with your head laying on my hand. Are your dreams happy? Or are you plagued by dark creatures that you can't seem to escape?

Day 7, 9:47 A.M

One word to describe me… that was the question my mandatory therapist, Dr. Shelkon a short, plump, fair skinned woman, asked me I refused to answer her. Pathetic.

Day 8, 10:07 A.M

My damn stiff hands struggle to form the shapes I need in order to communicate with you by other means then this fucking slip of paper.

Day 8, 10:00 P.M

"Jane, are you okay?" your honeyed voice barely penetrating my fevered mind. My limbs feel heavy like concrete impostors, my motions lethargic. It feels as though I am burning with a fire whose origin is held at my throat.

Day 8, 11:17 P.M

My fogged mind has my thoughts jumbled and ensnared. I think I heard your voice and that it was saying something about an infection… your tone was worried so were your emeralds that you call eyes.

Day 9, 6:10 A.M

I wake up just long enough to take the medications offered to me and right before drifting away noting the slight dampening of the fire. Your hand is cool in mine.

Day 9, 9:47 A.M

You woke me from my fevered dream. You said something about your phone and then the cool presence of your hand is gone. I try to stay awake until you return but shortly succumb to slumber after over worked and aging nurse sticks me with a needle I barely felt. I dream of you.

Day 9, 12:32 P.M

You're back… for now, you're taking a break you whisper softly to me like a mother does to calm their frightened child, and then you resume your vigilant post at my side. It feels nice to have your hand in mine. All I can do to let you know of my appreciation is to apply a feeble pressure to our grip. You smile grows to something more than a symbol of content… I feel loved.

Day 9, 7:24 P.M

I wake up to find you standing at the foot of my bed, conversing with who I believe is my physician. I'm not sure that I like the way he speaks to you even though you are totally oblivious to the fact that he is coming onto you or the way he stands so close to you and occasionally leaves lingering touches on you even though you shy away from his grasp.

Day 10, 8:11 A.M

The fever is gone, you tell me your voice hinting to your relief, even though you refuse to admit your fear. I don't blame you. I love you. I love you. I love you. Will I ever be able to say that?

Day 10, 11:03 A.M

You help me drink the protein shakes that according to the nurse will help me grow big and strong… her words not mine. I am starting to believe that she deserves a raise. I adore you. Do you know that?

Day 10, 1:27 P.M

You climbed into my bed and we watched golden girls together. I missed most of the show… I was too captivated by the way your eyes danced with mirth as you took in the comedy. I will always be there for you. Do you doubt that?

Day 15, 12:45 P.M

You came into today excited. You spoke to me so quickly that I had to motion for you to slow down, before I could understand you message I would be released today. I'm not sure whether I am happy or not.

Day 15, 3:17 P.M

You took me to your home. I can't admit this but I'm scared. I love you.


	7. Chapter 7

Day 1, 1:54 P.M

Never before have I been so fearful not even the time that you shot yourself to protect me and your brother did I fear for you so, and never again do I wish to feel this way. I hope you wake up soon so that I can again feel safe, even though I know the medication running through your veins inhibits you from doing so.

Day 1, 2:23 P.M

Your mother is here… she tells me that it is not my fault, that she hold no blame towards me, but her ever expressive eyes, that remind me much of yours, give her away.

Day 1, 7:48 P.M

I can't help but think of all of the potential outcomes of your injury. For once all of the facts that I know do nothing to quiet my worries. I long for you to wake up and save me from my thoughts.

Day 2, 11:02 A.M

Finally do your eyes open. Groggy and unsure is your gaze. When our eyes meet I offer a smile unsure of what to say to you.

Day 2, 11:04 A.M

You just discovered your inability to speak. Your muteness removes several possible prognoses from the list. The remaining possibilities range from bad to worse. From your symptoms I fear it will be the worst.

Day 2, 12:20 A.M

You fell back asleep moments before the doctor entered the room, maybe it was better that you didn't hear his cold and detached explanation of your situation.

Day 2, 12:37 A.M

The doctor's words finally hit me, a complete laryngectomy was performed, that I knew but what I hadn't known was that in your case the doctors could already tell that they would be unable to install a prosthetic voice box due to too much scar tissue. This will be hard for you; you have always been so vocal. I'm not too worried that you won't be able to communicate without words to me. Your actions speak loud enough, but will that be enough for you? Will I?

Day 2, 1:14 P.M

Your family stopped by while you were asleep. I told them the news and their reactions were varied, your mother cried, so did Vince, Barry left the room to hide his tears, faking an important text, Frankie just stood there stoic unsure how to feel. I don't blame him.

Day 2, 5:58 P.M

You woke up and stayed up this time. I waited until your thoughts were not foggy before telling you. You began to tear up so I wrapped you in a tight embrace knowing that you did not want anyone to see you be any more vulnerable than this whole goddamn situation made you be.

Day 2, 7:01 P.M

You pulled at my arm until I climbed into the small hospital bed. I snuggled into you side as you flipped through the channels at a lethargic pace.

Day 3, 3:34 P.M

You just stare off into the distance as I tell you about the case you had been working. You're not really listening to me and I am okay with that, it is obvious that you have a lot to think about, but that doesn't mean that I don't worry none the less.

Day 3, 5:12 P.M

You spend most of the day sleeping so I use that time to go home and change.

Day 4, 6:17 A.M

Your sobs wake me from the first non-interrupted sleep that I have had in a while, but I make no motion to comfort you. Instead I just cover my head and cry.

Day 4, 9:34 P.M

My emotions are all over the place. The nurse gave me something to help me sleep. I did not even look to see what it was.

Day 5, 8:09 A.M

Your doctor just came in. he didn't say much verbally but what he left out spoke for him.

Day 5, 2:56 P.M

I went down to the hospital gift shop and bought you a notebook. I did this in hopes of you sharing your thoughts and feelings but all I got was a simple thanks.

Day 6, 12:04 P.M

I finally got you to have a conversation with me.

"Hey, I brought you milkshake. Do you want it?" I softly asked

"Yeah. Thanks" was your hastily scribed reply, before grabbing the cup

"They're going to let you start eating some real food soon." I said after several minutes of silence

"Really?" was your cautious reply like you thought I was just messing with you

"Yes." I told you with a smile

We stayed like that for a while the only sound coming from some children's program on the television, before I heard the scratching of your pencil as you stroked the paper with its graphite.

"Tell me something." Was your simple message

"About what"

"Anything" was the answer you wrote without hesitation

"Okay did you know that that pencil you're writing with uses graphite not lead to produce its marks? Lead has not been commonly used since the middle of the 20th century. Speaking of lead, lead is an element in the carbon groups whose periodic symbol is Pb, which is derived from the Latin word plumbum and its atomic number is 82. It is bluish-white colour when first harvested but as it is exposed to air it turns a dull grey. It is a soft and malleable metal that if one is overexposed too it causes damage to the nervous system and can cause brain disorders. Shall I continue?" I asked unsure if Jane cared to continue this topic.

"Please." Was her reply and so with a smile I began again.

"It's physical properties are that it is a solid, its density when at room temperature which is 68 °F is 11.34 g·cm−3, its liquid density is 10.66 g·cm−3, it has boiling point of 3180 °F, and melting point of 621.43 °F." I finished with a smile

"What about graphite, what are its properties?" Jane asked

"Well Graphite…" I began.

We talked for hours. It felt good.

Day 6, 7:12 P.M

They let you eat noodles for dinner tonight, but only after telling me to keep a close eye on you for signs of suffocation caused by blockage. It pissed me off that they felt they needed to tell me that.

Day 6, 11:59 P.M

As I drift off to sleep I am hit with a thought. I love you Jane Rizzoli, more then I should.

Day 7, 9:47 A.M

You've been with your hospital and police mandated therapist Dr. Shelkon for 17 minutes now. I wish I was with you. I hope you're cooperating even though knowing you that is unlikely.

Day 8, 10:07 A.M

I can tell you are getting frustrated as you try to use sign language. I stop you as you struggle, putting my hands over yours I help you form the need shapes. Your skin feels too warm.

Day 8, 10:00 P.M

I should have paid more attention than I did to the excessive temperature of your heated skin, because now you show all the signs of having a nosocomial infection.

Day 8, 11:17 P.M

The good for nothing doctor finally shows up after an hour and thirteen minutes since the nurse said he'll be there in five minutes. It takes him ten minutes of me explaining your symptoms and signs to admit you may have an infection. I want to have him fired for incompetence.

Day 9, 6:10 A.M

The nurse, whose name escapes me, enters the room waking both of us up. You barely manage to swallow the pills before returning to a state of slumber.

Day 9, 9:47 A.M

I am forced to leave your side when I receive a call from work. I hate leaving you.

Day 9, 12:32 P.M

I am finally able to return. When I place my hand in yours you give it a gentle squeeze and I smile. I wonder if you know how loved you are.

Day 9, 7:24 P.M

Your doctors back. I stand to meet him and I confront him about his inadequacies he tries to brush me off with soft touches that make me ill and what he believes to be subtle flirting that angers me. He should be paying attention to you not me.

Day 10, 8:11 A.M

Your fever finally broke. I have never felt so relieved. Oh, how I love you. I would count the ways but they are too numerous for calculation.

Day 10, 11:03 A.M

The nurse brings you a protein shake to help you gain the weight you've lost. It's amusing to see you two locked in a silent battle of the wills, but eventually I interrupt and force the shake on you.

Day 10, 1:27 P.M

I climbed into bed with you and you made me watch golden girls. Thank you, for giving me an escape. You are always there for me, as I wish to be for you.

Day 14, 12:02 P.M

The days have begun to quickly pass. You will be able to leave soon. I am going to ask you to stay with me. I hope you say yes.

Day 15, 12:45 P.M

I found out that today you will be released for sure; you didn't seem as excited as I was.

Day 15, 3:17 P.M

I took you to my home. You seemed nervous. Is it because of me? I'm scared but I do not think I will ever admit this. I love you, I think I always have, I know I always will. Now I just have to tell you.


End file.
